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ghouljams · 8 months

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A Fair Trade (A First Date) Word Count: 2.7k Tags: Price x oc/reader, minor descriptions of reader but only if you really squint, fluff, first date awkwardness Summary: The Witch promised Price dinner and by God he's going to be fed. Price promised her a date, and that makes this whole thing a little harder.

You are trying and failing not to think of tonight as a date.

You've been on dates. Not good ones, and they never came to your house, but you've been on dates. You were never this nervous before. You smooth your hands over your apron, trace the embroidery with your fingers before you pat your thighs to stop your fidgeting. You're going to change while the meat is still cooking, your usual work clothes feel too plain.

It’s painfully clear you don’t dress up often as you look through your closet. Actually it might be more accurate to say you have no concept of dressy vs too dressy. Your usual uniform is casual to you, but you often have clients tell you, you look nice. Whatever that means. You shake your head and grab whatever is clean, staring at the coven clothes in the back of your closet. Too fancy. You twist the little pearl buttons on your blouse into their holes, and make a face in the mirror. It’s all too obvious you’re trying to look nice for someone.

It’s the silhouette, you think, the nipped waist and tight skirt. You huff and don’t bother to do the last few buttons, searching around your drawers for something more casual. You think you have a pair of jeans somewhere. You know your sister has tried to force denim on you enough times. God, this skirt makes everything so much harder, you’re not used to clothing sitting so close to your body.

Fuck everything you’re changing, you’ll wear one of your dresses it’ll be fine.

There’s a solid knock on your front door, your wards light up excitedly. You squeeze your eyes shut and beg for it to not be Price. You know it is. You’ll just have to tell him to wait while you finish getting ready, slipping on a pair of heels as you make your way to the curved oak door.

You tug the door open, feeling more than a little frazzled. Everything is already going wrong and now you don’t have any time to fix it. Price smiles down at you, he looks the same as always. Fantastic, once again you’re overdressed. You step to the side, bid him a quiet “please come in” and hold the door for him. He slips his hat --your hat-- from his head as he steps inside. His eyes drag over your body in a way that makes you feel far too exposed.

"Did you dress up for me?" He asks, you feel a little silly the way he says it.

"You said this was a date," which makes you feel even sillier to say.

“I did say that,” Price hums, reaches towards you, gentle fingers finish buttoning your shirt. You tip your head back instinctively for him as he twists the satin ribbon tie at the collar into a neat bow. Your breath sticks in your throat, the gesture far too intimate for a first date. “Are you nervous, sweetheart?” His fingers caress your throat and you snap your chin down, take a step back before your heart can jump out of your chest. You suppose changing is out of the question now.

“No,” Liar, “should I be?”

“Probably not,” You hate how he smiles at you, with just barely contained amusement, it’s far too charming.

“You know to behave yourself,” You turn away from him to go check on your roast, “otherwise the wards will throw you out just like last time.”

“Last time,” He mumbles, and you feel yourself wince, the ache in your chest at his tone. You shouldn’t have brought it up. Price is quiet, you’re not exactly used to him being quiet. You can feel him, his magic like a still lake, deep dark waters hardly stirring the secrets at the bottom. You still glance over your shoulder to make sure he’s actually in the house when he’s gone too long in silence.

He’s looking around your living room, picking up framed pictures and smiling down at the happy faces. His eyes dart to the wood beams of your ceiling, to the overstuffed couch, the knitted afghans, nothing you find terribly interesting. All of your materials are kept closer to the kitchen. If he wanted to snoop he should’ve chosen one of your glass cabinets, not your bookshelf. You shrug and pull your ceramic pot from the oven, you don’t have anything that needs to be hidden.

You settle your main on the counter and go to grab plates. You figure you can get dinner plated while he’s busy putting his scent all over everything. You can feel his magic clinging to whatever he’s touched. It’ll take you weeks to get it fully out of your house. You try not to think about the magical cleaning you’ll have to do when he leaves, focusing instead on slicing thick cuts off the bread you’d baked earlier.

Your grandmother would be quite proud of you for all the cooking you’ve done. Everything is fresh and cooked to perfection. It’s quite a nice plate if you do say so yourself: warm bread, tender meat with a rich thick sauce, and roasted vegetables with just a hint of char. Everything smells of warm herbs and careful preparation. Cooking is a magic in and of itself, one you’re thankful you had a good teacher for.

You grab both plates to set at their respective places on your table. Not exactly formal dining, but then again your family has never been a formal dining sort of people. Still, you have the prerequisite candles, wine, cloth napkins and butterflies in your stomach. You look for Price, finally having made his way to your curio cabinet. He turns a pair of dragonfly wings over in his hand.

“Dinner’s ready,” You raise your voice enough to be sure he’ll hear you over whatever he’s thinking. He settles the wings back in their place as he looks at you. His eyes drift down to the table.

“You served me,” Price sounds, almost confused, but- hm, indulgent, maybe. His voice is thick with something you haven’t heard before, deeper in his chest than it usually is. Something about it makes you want to touch him, conjures the feeling of sitting on his lap as you take your own seat.

“You’re my guest,” You tell him, “I’m a good host.”

“So you are,” He pulls his designated chair out to sit, and pauses again, leaning to pick up the fork you’d laid out for him. “This is fairy made,” He twists the intricate wooden utensil between his fingers, you nod.

“You’re not the only fae I deal with,” You pick up your own fork, the wood curves comfortably in your hand.

“Apparently,” Price smiles, finally sitting, “anyone I should be jealous of?” You snort.

“I should hope not. If I had to deal with anyone half as stubborn as you-” You shake your head, clear the sentence from your thoughts, “Besides I rarely cook for others. Too much-” you wave your hand, “idle magic to keep track of.”

Price hums. What you want to tell him is that cooking is such a labor of love, that it’s almost impossible to serve anything to anyone who isn’t going to stick around. That clearing your intent and keeping it clear the whole time you cook is far more than what a normal person has to go through, even if they’re just making toast. That every recipe seems to call for the same herbs that love and health spells call for, and you’ve never been able to shut your brain off from the association. That even sharing a meal with your friends makes you worry you’ll accidentally put a spell on them, and they’ll never trust what you give them again. That even though you love cooking you never stop being a witch, putting magic into everything that touches you.

Price watches you, your faux casual air. You know he has a better nose than your mundane friends, you dread to hear if your food smells like a spell. His eyes are so warm as you meet his gaze. It always surprises you that such an icy blue could be anything but cold, and yet.

“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for me,” He says, picking up his knife and beginning to slice through the meat on his plate. You open your mouth to refute it, and grab your wine to sip instead. There’s no point in lying when it’s so painfully clear.

Wood, ceramic, copper, your kitchen seems almost made for fae comfort in its current state. Not a lick of iron anywhere it could’ve infected the food.

Instead you flick your wrist, your little record player excitedly switching itself on and carefully setting its needle on your pre-approved vinyl. You let the machine deal with the fiddly bits as your magic works to try and even itself out around the traces Price has left.

“I promised you a meal, you should be able to eat it,” You finally manage, doing your best to focus on your own food when your stomach is twisting itself into knots.

“Thank God for that,” Price tells you, “if I can’t eat you, at least I can eat your food.” You both watch the candles burst in crackling flames, bright enthusiastic licks of fire that you do your best to calm down. Magic reacting to your emotions. The record player skips a beat with your fluttering heart. “Cute,” He says it so casually, like your flames don’t crackle with his every word.

“Shut up,” You grumble.

If you’d thought dinner would be the hardest part of the evening you were horribly wrong. Dinner is easy. You’ve taken tea with Price enough times, had enough conversations with him, that you find it easy to fall into your familiar groove. Though you can feel time passing, can hear the soft click and chime of your clocks, you get lost talking. Before you know it hours have passed. Your candles burned down, your plates clean, the previously full bottle of wine neatly polished off. You think your record has reset itself at least once.

It’s nice, comfortable. Price always gives you his full attention, listens without simply waiting for his turn to speak, and you return the favor. Although with how intelligent he is, it would be hard not to give him your full attention. This date thing is easy. You don’t know why you were so worried.

All of your awkward anxiety rushes at you as you stand at the door. You’ve never been good at ending dates, and you’ve never had a date go well with someone you’re- Well you suppose you can admit that you like Price more than you should. Like him enough to hesitate the ending. You stare at him, trying to get a read on his mood, trying to silently ask him to do something. Please tell me how this is supposed to end, you think at him.

“You have to tell me if you want something little witch,” He smiles down at you.

"Would you kiss me?" You don't know what else to say, how else this could possibly go. You want him to kiss you more than anything. You had it once, and you haven't stopped thinking about it since. Price smiles, and pulls you into his arms.

He kisses you and it's nothing like it was last time. The blind panic is gone for one. It's slow and soft, it's not perfect, you don't know what to do with your hands or really what to do with your mouth, but it doesn't matter. Price kisses you like he never wants to do anything else, like the world can wait for him to finish. You're warm from the dinner and you can feel it bleed into the kiss. His beard tickles a little but the way he holds you and the soft slide of his lips make everything else melt away.

When he pulls away you can still feel the phantom press of his lips against yours, and it makes giddy bubbles pop in your ribs and across your cheeks. You want to kiss him again. Price smiles and brushes your hair back, his rough calloused fingers gentle as they skate across your skin. You really must be greedy to want so much more of him. You try to coach yourself, too much of a good thing blah blah blah.

He cups the back of your head and kisses you again. Soft, soft, soft. You didn't know kissing someone would feel like this. You've seen movies, read books, but you'd thought those must be exaggerations. When you'd kissed him before it had been so insistent, all teeth and tongue as he tried to devour you. If you'd thought he was trying to steal you away then you can't even imagine what he's trying to do now. Your chest clenches tight, pulls taught, bursts with gnawing desire, you think you might be trying to steal him, or at least convince him you're worth staying for.

Not that he needs convincing, you are more than worth staying for. You're so sweet and warm from the wine. Your lips are plush against his and your pretty little fingers hold onto him so tightly, he wouldn't leave you if the whole court called him. There's a slight tang of alcohol on your lips that makes your kiss all the sweeter.

Your hands slide to his shoulders as you press up on your toes, press closer against him. He wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you flush against his chest. As if he could keep you any closer, feel any more of your warmth. Oh you sweet thing, if he could sink into you he would, each honeyed kiss, each gentle breath, plucking at the last string of his resolve. Precious darling, do you even know how well loved you are?

You pull back, turn your head so his next kiss just catches the edge of your mouth. Price is ravenous for you, sliding his lips to your jaw, he can smell your pulse, the soft powdery rose of your perfume. How could he still be so hungry after eating? He can feel the syrup drip of your magic down his spine, languid and entirely too enticing. Actually, everything in the house seems to tremble just on the edge of your breaths, seems to weigh heavy against his shoulders, anticipatory.

It’s not just his hunger, is it?

His lips still against your neck. No, it’s yours as well. He can smell it, taste it on your skin, your want. You’re a spell, as much as you try not to be, just begging to be adored. You’re nervous. He pulls back, takes in the pout of your lips, the draw of your brows, wanting but unsure. He can’t. You deserve better than just hungry wanting. You should rest safe in the knowledge that he won’t leave in the morning.

Unfortunately that morning won’t come tomorrow.

Price strokes your cheek, kisses your forehead. It’s the end of an exchange, a decision made for both of you. you thought he’d be pushier. He was getting what he wanted, right? Maybe that was your own inexperience shining through, but you’d thought- Well you’d thought this was why he wanted you.

“What now?” You ask, trying to hide the confusion in your voice.

“Now?” He sighs it like it pains him, “Now, I leave, and you see me tomorrow.” You can’t say you aren’t relieved. Grateful that he isn’t pushing you for more so quickly. Still, you can’t help feeling a small sting of rejection.

"Even if I ask you to stay?" You push up onto your toes to try and meet his lips again, but he leans back to keep you a breath away.

"Especially if you ask." He tilts his head, and you feel like you’ve edged too close to a dangerous line. "When I fuck you," Price breathes, brushes his lips against yours, "and I will fuck you, Sweetheart," he assures you, "I want it to mean something.” He brushes your hair from your cheek, his fingers cupping your face like you’re something precious to him.

“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow?” You hope. Price smiles, and kisses you a final time. The feeling of him lingers when he pulls away. Gentle magic sticking to your lips as he pulls his hat on.

“And every day after that,” He promises.

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starfinss · 8 months

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Thanks for answering my ask!😊 i do have request/suggestion involving Cyno haha, what about a 🍋 scenario where Cyno, Al Haitham and a character of your choice get accidentally hard from having their S/O innocently sit on their lap? They try to hide it but they fail.. 🙈 if that would be alright with you!

This has been in my inbox for literal months, I am SO sorry.

I’ve been planning a trip abroad, plus I’ve had no ideas for this prompt until like an hour ago when I was playing Genshin and thinking of story ideas. Anyway, sure, I’ll write that. The character of my choice will be Lyney, because I’m working on his build right now and I’ve been sort of drafting a fic for him while I’m writing the Jing Yuan fic.

As always, let me know if any of you want full fics from this.

—𝘚𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘓𝘢𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴.

— 𝘈𝘭𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘮

— Unless you’re at home together, I doubt Alhaitham would let you sit on his lap for this very reason.

— Alhaitham is a man who lives my the rules of logic, and while I won’t say he hasn’t fucked you on his desk at work, he’d call those ‘momentary lapses in judgement.’

— Not that he didn’t enjoy them, though.

— He’s the type who likes to do things where the chances of being caught are low. He likes to draw things out, doing everything he can to make you feel good. And so, he prefers to engage in activity like this in the comfort of your bedroom.

— So, in instances like this, if you were to convince him to let you sit in his lap while you waited for him to finish up his work after everyone was home for the night, he might give in, just a little bit.

— Really, you just wanted to be close to him, maybe close your eyes for a while. He loves closeness as much as the next person, being near to the one you love is always nice.

— The risk of being seen in such a compromising position is low, which is a plus, and he gets to feel your warmth against his body as he finishes what he has to do for the day.

— But then you shift forward, nuzzling closer, and your body rubs against his just right, and oh Archons, he doesn’t have time for this.

— The way your body settles so perfectly over him makes his mind scatter to anything and everything besides work. The friction as you rearrange yourself against him is enough to make him feel like he’s going crazy.

— He hides it well, though. Alhaitham is good at keeping a blank face.

— As casually as he can, he shifts you back so you’re away from his growing erection, because he has to finish this paperwork before he leaves, and you’re so maddeningly distracting.

— But that doesn’t go unnoticed. You look up at him quizzically, and when you’re met with a blank stare, you shift back to where you were most comfortable, just to see his reaction.

— He sets his jaw, breath catching as he stiffens, unable to hide the way his body reacts to yours as you realize why he moved you away.

“Did I make you hard?” You whisper, a little surprised, “I didn’t even do anything.”

A quiet scoff as he looks at you fully, his self-restraint beginning to fray. Damn you for always having this effect on him.

“It’s kind of hard not to with you practically grinding against me.”

A sly smile overtakes your face, the innocent desire to hold him replaced with something much more lascivious.

“Would you like some help with that, Mister Acting Grand Sage?”

— Lips collide, and you end up bent over the desk as he holds you in place by your hips, the office filled with the sound of skin on skin and his low, pleasured groans as he fucks you, deep and hard, just the way he knows you like it.

— Needless to say, that paperwork didn’t end up getting done that night.

— 𝘊𝘺𝘯𝘰

— Like Alhaitham, I don’t think Cyno would really allow such a thing unless the two of you were alone in your own home.

— He doesn’t like breaking rules or doing things that could be seen as unbecoming, especially not in public.

— It’s because of the fact that he most likely wouldn’t engage in that sort of thing in public that I also doubt he’d try and hide it.

— In his eyes, things tend to be rather black and white, and he separates your sex life together from everyday life. He associates you sitting in his lap with other more improper thoughts that he shouldn’t be distracted by when he’s working or out of the house.

— It doesn’t change just how much he loves you, and even in daily life he expresses that in other ways.

— This is getting long winded and stupid but I want this to be interesting and not just “he’s reading a book and you’re in his lap,” which I could very easily do.

— I sure am a writer. Also this idea is stupid, but it’s also fun. I will probably write a full fic for it.

— But, anyway, the point I was making is, if you were to accidentally end up in his lap, then because of that association between you being that close and sexual activity, he might end up getting hard rather easily.

— While tracking a fugitive scholar together, the two of you end up being forced to fight when a group of Eremites come through, and the ensuing scuffle catches the attention of a herd of Sumpter Beasts.

— You and Cyno are confined into a small hiding space, and because of the limited amount of room, you’re forced to straddle him.

— You, of course, are wriggling around, trying to get comfortable in the awkward position, and it’s when you finally settle down onto his lap and he catches you by the waist to keep you from fully resting against him that you realize what has happened.

— He’s not meeting your eyes, simply looking out through the gaps in the rocks to watch the herd of beasts go by, but you can see his jaw tighten when you shift forward and out of his grip. When you move your hips down, a hand shoots out to still you with a grip that is nearly bruising.

“Stay still.”

— You’re a little surprised, he’s usually able to keep that sort of thing under control fairly well, but in retrospect, you can’t really blame him with all the moving around you were doing.

“Sorry,” you croak, suddenly mortified, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” he says, “my body simply responded to the stimulation. It is always a possibility in such close quarters. Just stay still, please.”

— The rocks are digging into your knees, and despite his warning, you still try and shift for some relief, as slowly as you can, but he’s getting harder, and you can feel his hands scrambling for a grip on your hips and waist, and when he looks at you, the glint in his eyes is equal parts pleading and haggard.

— Slowly, teasingly, you roll your hips, and his head falls back against the wall of rocks behind it, eyes fluttering closed as you grind against him, the way he’s holding you so flush against him making the friction ever better.

“We shouldn’t,” he says, though his own protest sounds unconvincing as his voice drops several octaves lower, rough with lust, and especially so when his hips rise to press you even closer.

“Then why aren’t you stopping me?” You ask, wanting so badly to kiss him, and instead of answering you, he catches the back of your head, crushing your mouth against his.

— The buttons of your shirt are undone, his mouth is on your breasts as you fumble for the front of his shorts, struggling to get your own off, and he simply moves your panties aside after you’ve wrestled out of your clothing before yanking you down, stuffing you full of his thick cock.

— Your cries of pleasure are lost among the hoof beats of the Sumpter Beasts on the path above, and you share heated breath as you ride him, his hand on your waist to guide you along the length of his cock.

— His head dips down to watch where he disappears inside of you, and you feel his grip tighten on your body, feel him twitch inside of you, making you whimper.

— He’s sure to make you cum first, his thumb on your clit, muttering sweet filth into your skin as you come undone above him.

— You end up in that ravine longer than you excepted, if you couldn’t tell.

— 𝘓𝘺𝘯𝘦𝘺

— Unlike the two others, I don’t think Lyney would be as private.

— A conversation with my good friend Paprika made me realize that Lyney is probably the type of guy who goes for what he wants, and if he was interested in someone, he’d likely just show that interest without beating around the bush.

— So I wouldn’t be surprised if he invited his s/o to sit on his lap, just casually, no matter where they were.

— It’s not even sexual, really, he just likes being close to the ones he loves, and you’re no exception. He loves holding you.

— He’s very romantic, too, I’d say. He knows just what to say to get you all weak in the knees. He loves you so much. The poor guy doesn’t have many people in his life who have shown him the love that you have, and he absolutely cherishes you.

— He’d even buy out all the seats in one of the upper boxes of the Opera Epiclese, just to have you all to himself, able to hold you close and tell you just how much he adores you in the dark of the grand auditorium.

— But he’s only human, and if you were to move just right while sitting in his lap, he’s going to have a reaction.

A soft chuckle tickled your ear in the silence, and you felt Lyney’s hands on your waist, gently holding you in place.

“Stay still, please, darling.”

— He wouldn’t really try and hide it, it’s kind of hard to when you’re right there.

— He’d bite back a gasp as you shift again, almost teasing him, shooting you a warning look.

“Can I help with that?”

A soft laugh, slightly strained. “And how would you do that?”

You pressed a kiss to the curve of his jaw. “Can I show you?”

He kisses your forehead. “As long as it’s quiet. We wouldn’t want to disturb the other patrons, would we?”

— You slip down from his lap and to the floor, where you kneel, between his knees. He’s seated in the farthest chair in the box, well hidden from sight if anyone were to look his way. You wouldn’t even be visible from that vantage point.

— He realizes what you’re doing and shifts his legs farther apart to accommodate you, and when you palm him through his slacks, you get the pleasure of watching the way his jaw tightens, breath drawn in sharply through his nose.

— You make short work of his belt and zipper, and he shifts his hips to let you tug his underwear down just enough to free his dick.

— He curses quietly when you wrap your hand around him, and when you begin to slowly stroke, his head tips back against the chair.

— When your mouth presses against his tip, you feel one gloved palm against the back of your head, urging you forward, lacing into your hair when you take him into your mouth.

— You feel him twitch against the roof of your mouth as you begin to bob your head, slow and steady, almost teasing, and you can hear him gasp softly above you, see him clamp one hand over his mouth as you watch him through your lashes.

— His grip tightens on your hair, groans muffled by the hand over his mouth, and you squeeze your thighs together, letting yourself moan around him, low and soft, and that’s enough to make his hips buck against your mouth. You know you’ll pay for that when you got home.

— You speed up, and his hand fists into your hair, desperate for any kind of purchase at all, and you hardly mind, especially when it leads to him shifting forward in his seat, forcing you to take more of him, gently guiding you back, only to fill your mouth once more.

— You loosen your throat and let him take control, using your mouth as he pleases, simply content with watching the way his face twists in pleasure, teeth digging into his knuckles as he tries desperately to stay quiet, and you can tell he’s close from the way he’s leaking into your mouth, his thighs shaking, grip growing borderline painful.

— He cums hard, gushing down your throat, and it’s a wonder he stays quiet during his climax, the effort of it all clearly taking a toll on him as you watch involuntary frustrated tears bead at the corner of his eyes and catch in his pale lashes.

— You pull off as he softens, licking your lips and making a show of swallowing, something he watches with heavy-lidded, hungry eyes.

— Cheekily, you settle back into the seat with him after he tucks himself away again, careful to avoid bumping against him.

— Yeah, you didn’t end up getting much sleep after you got home that night.

The fact that this took as long as it did haunts me and I am so sorry.

ALSO I GET TO SEE PAPRIKA IN PERSON THIS FALL YAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!! I’m so excited, and I will probably cry.

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misskittyhart · 1 month

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Your Soul Forfeit

It was a loud, wild night at the Black Dahlia, the energy was palpable in the room. The loud sound of trumpets and clarinets whined alongside the deep sounds of bass, drums, the soft tinkling of an old rag time piano joined the cacophonous symphony. There she stood, like a silver lit movie star. Miss Kitty Hart, the upcoming star of the down town district.

She had become well known for her sensual nature and sultry tones. A stunning fox demon from 1920's New Orleans, are star in life, as well as in death. Though these days there was pain and sadness in that voice. In which, only made her music that more moving.

Ghosts and past pains ebbed into that mind of hers. Haunting her with the violence and darkness of her past. However, when she was on that stage none of that mattered. Music consumed her, like a pit swallowing her up.

That voice rang out into that hot, crowded room. The breath seemed to be sucked from the room as she sang her set. People watched with baited breath. For such a small demon, she exerted an air of power and confidence. Which often had sinner's harassing her, to her disdain. Not that she couldn't defend herself, she was down in hell for a reason.

Her song came to a close. She took her bow to a wildly cheering audience. The sounds of admiration making her pride swell, a high filling her. She moved back behind thick velvet curtains to her dressing room.

Before she could manage to change there was a knock at her door. Her fox ears twitched and flicked curiously to the door. Upon opening it she saw him. "Radio demon?" she gasped surprised.

starter for

@radio-demon-on-air

#hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel alastor #rpstarter #wow sorry its very long ha

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emry-stars-art · 5 months

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Have you seen that gifset about harbor seals who sleep underwater by wedging themselves between rocks? But then sometimes just freely roll "like a hotdog on the ocean floor"

It just made me think of Nicky in the mer-au for some reason this morning hahaha

Seeing that gifset make it's circles around my Internet presence was a GIFT and I STILL LOVE IT so much 😂 (thank you for your patience with the answer here) they're so cute look at these lil guys they are gorgeous indeed

Can you imagine mer Nicky as the subject of some documentary. I know I have the actual aus set sometime before technology but like. Nicky would be perfect to study and hang out with 😂💕 you're making me want to do a little page pretending to be a mer biologist againnnnn ugh it's so much fun. If you guys have ever thought about doing smth like that you should, it's the best lol

Also while we're talking about water rests; I wasn't gonna bother posting this but hey opportunity arises. Jellyfish are pretty light so they'd also get swept away in currents pretty easy so jellyfish mers absolutely like to wedge themselves between rocks to sleep - but most shark pods are always moving, so jellyNeil and sharkDrew eventually have to find a happy medium which ends up as so:

Keep your jellyfish from floating away with this one simple trick (cuddling it to your chest while it sleeps) ✅

Find the mer au master post here 💕

#again. sharkdrew is heavy for neils little jellyfish muscles to neil cant exactly return the favor #but andrew is not overly concerned about it #as long as neil does not get lost we are all good ro go captain #wow i cant type today sorry #fan art #my art #aftg #all for the game #mer au #oops all mers au #sharkdrew #jellyneil #neil josten #andrew minyard #asks

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thedevillionaire · 21 days

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and there will your heart be also

She’s been away five days and will be away two more.

He sneezes again, curses under his breath about it and gazes out the window for an uncertain time. It’s raining still, and bitterly cold. The flowers she’d left on the sill are starting to fade. Wintry sleet falls steadily, constantly, and he has a thousand things he’s supposed to do and he’s not doing a damn one of them, his focus both scattered and singular as he claims a tissue from the box by the flowers.

He wipes his nose firmly and recalls her placing the bouquet just so, fresh and vibrant, smiling at him so pleased with her arrangement of it all, her arms around him in soft devoted embrace. The ghost of her touch caresses him in memory; the image brings a suffusing warmth, and he loses himself to its comforting spectre.

For a moment, at least.

He sniffles, chilled despite the hearthfire’s radiant heat, and an ominous shiver runs through him. A catch in his throat follows, barbed and wicked. He frowns at it, shakes his head in an irritated, unspoken refutation of what it might imply. Any further acknowledgement of coming down with something is pushed as firmly from his thoughts as he can; he can’t be sick. It’s not going to…

Hh-HH…

It’s not… *snf!* Not going to happen. He won’t allow it. He won’t… *SNF!* It’s not…

His breath sharpcatches and all thoughts crumble capitulated to urgent, desperate sensation.

“HHTSSCH-uu! Hh-TSSSCH-uu! Ah, gods.” With a wetly insistent series of sniffles, he takes yet another tissue and, after a moment of consideration, another for good measure. Another.

He sighs.

And he misses her, and he misses her.

---

#wow it's been a while huh #my ocs incognito #cerberus and kia #cerbia #my writing #i've been beyond terrible in completing things for a long time now so here's a hearty AT LAST this microsnippet is actually done #it has an in-progress sequel too #if i can get my inner words to word on the page and all that #happy birthday cerbie i'm sorry about this #sort of 😏

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aeirithgainsborough · 11 months

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“You know there’s no ‘it’, right? It was just us.” “Is there a difference?” YELLOWJACKETS SEASON 2

#well what a season wow very high highs!!!#yellowjackets #yellowjacketsedit #shauna shipman #taissa turner #jackie taylor #lottie matthews #natalie scatorccio #van palmer #misty quigley #96yellowjackets #yellowjacketscentral #cannibalism tw #dead body tw #gore tw #**#LONG POST #SORRY ABT IT EXCEPT NOT REALLY #I HAD SO MUCH FUN MAKING THIS

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swiftmitsu · 1 month

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If you had to pick who would be your favourite sans and who would be your least favourite?

Random question

so.

i think it's clear which of the two is my favourit--

AND I WOULD LIKE TO SAY. it isnt that i dont like Greaser, also it’s hard to pick my least favourite sans, man.

I JUST HATE HIS FFFFREAKING HAIR, DUDE.

i struggled for 30 minutes. just for his HAIR

this is the only Greaser drawing you’re gonna get from me.

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alpacacare-archive · 7 months

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its DESTINY

#repostober #day 18 actually on time! wow #undertale #papyrus #danganronpa #dr1 #kiyotaka ishimaru #yes. mashing favorite things together again #but it was meant to be #so many similarities between these two goofs #loud eccentric passionate autistic supportive of their friends always wearing the same outfit EASILY the best character in their franchise #HARDWORKING TO THE POINT OF WORKAHOLISM!!!!!!! UPLIFTING OTHERS WITHOUT ERASING OR DIMINISHING THEIR OWN GREATNESS!!!!!!#always eats the same thing (taka - rice balls toast and a banana- papyrus - DINOSAUR EGG OATMEAL NOT SPAGHETTI sorry its a pet peeve)#kindhearted and so aggressive about it genuinely believe that anyone can improve themselves and theyre both so silly and quirky all the tim #literally the only differences that i can think of are that taka would throw himself overboard if someone authoritative told him to #before they could even finish their sentence while papyrus is an anarchist arsonist who cusses and his intended jokes are actually funny #' * SIGH * ... WHAT A TROUBLED YOUNG HUMAN ... 'FUCK' ISN'T EVEN IN HIS RARE VOCABULARY ! HOW DOES HE FUNCTION UNDER THESE CONDITIONS ??#he would take taka under his wing and get him back on the straight and narrow (give him weed)#and i feel like after the three day long yell over how a skeleton is walking and talking as if that were normal he'd really look up to him #fav things about this are the way takas shirt hangs off of papyrus' rib cage cus theres nothing there but a spine #that was so fun to draw sdfhg #taka cosplaying papyrus is my gift to humanity today

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livsmessydoodles · 1 year

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thinking about this scene today

this scene alone convinces me that byler is endgame bc you cannot make will actively say that hes not gonna fall in love and then write a whole plotline abt him being in love with mike.... just for it to not be reciprocated???

will is the only party member who's completely unexperienced with romantic relationships, which of course has to do with the fact that he's gay in the 80's, but this is a TV show. all of this is fictional so they can take whatever route they want with these characters, and making will continue to stay alone and suffer through unrequited love would be awful storytelling, especially when people claim that will moving on from his feelings would bring character development and growth.

wills feelings for mike arent there just to "show his growth". weve seen this kid go through hell and back yet even with everything kicking him down he stays strong and kind. hes the most selfless character in the show and always puts others needs before his own. in s4, they put a lot of emphasis in these character traits of his, and they're always picturing his love for mike as something selfless and pure.

now if his feelings are not reciprocated, how does this teach will a lesson that leads to character growth?? he already doesn't expect anything. life has shown him time and time again that he always gets the short end of the stick, why would he think this is any different?? making him have feelings for his best friend just to get rejected would just be a nail in the coffin, reaffirming to him that no matter what hes not worthy of ever getting what he wishes. this isnt character growth at all.

but if his feelings ARE requited, that gives us a twist to the story we havent seen. we would get to see actual growth for will, him learning to give himself value and realize that he DOES deserve happiness!! instead of leading into the expected spiral of bad things keeping up the consistency with everything else that has happened to will so far, finally giving him one good thing leads to us seeing a shift in his whole nature, and wed see him dealing with things he hasnt dealt with before!!! GROWTH!!!

besides why would they make such an intricate complicated storyline.... just to lead to a rejection we all saw coming? the GA expects him to get rejected. his feelings not being reciprocated would not be any surprise. but twisting those expectations in a way to shock the GA AND give wills character the happiness he so deserves after being through so much..... now THAT would be world shattering and a satisfying ending to both the viewers and will himself!!

this scene establishes a clear subversion trope, making us aware of how will believes he's never finding love, just for the show to later on subvert expectations and reward will with the love he deserves and never thought hed get🫶

#long post wow sorry #i was just thinking about this scene and then remembered a thread id made on twt a couple months ago and. basically redacted it #i just think this is so important and its solid evidence that we often look past #the duffers have been setting this storyline for a while. the buildup is all there #i doubt theyd just push all of that aside to stay with the same ol boring het couple who honestly even the GA is tired kf #😭😭😭😭#ANYWAY #i like doing think pieces i might do more eventually #byler #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #byler analysis #st4 #stranger things 5 #mike wheeler x will byers #will byers x mike wheeler #will and mike get on the petri dish #liv rambles

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